almondeye7's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Poems...for me (prayer) & (sometimes)& (forgotten warrior) This is my second entry today.... "Prayer" What has happend to me of late? For I have haulted the steps of fate: Mistake after mistake... What of motion within my boundries? and of the flowers witch I have plucked off one by one, and then crushing them under my brazen feet..... I have scatered them and handed them out like bits of paper... For I have been as broken as one can be; giving in to open space and pondering what sins do not see. One day I let my dreams lose, and like a spoiled brat of a child; I laid upon the ground and in a fit of rage laughed in the face of the temptress.... What of her motives? What of her cares? the demends got into me and trigered the lonliness there Then like a fool of the bloodied night, I caved myself in. I lost what I had worked so hard to win... What of heros of the night? who ride up to the dragons lair; and without a word take his fire so that his breath dose not find me here. Dear God, have mercy and let me see; put back what went wrong with me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Sometimes..." Sometimes, I feel like a blink in the fabric of muddled conversation. I'm a machine. Cranking along. Sitting up. Knees up to my chin. I watch. I wonder. Do they see? Sometimes I feel like a hobo clown. Smileing through my frown. I'm an entertainer. Shuffling along. Dragging my pack. I wait. I contend. Do they laugh at me? or who I pretend to be? Sometimes I feel like an untamed animal. Hungry.Bored. I pretend I dont care. Closeing my eyes to the sacrifice I lied. I stole. I took myself back. Isn't there anyone hearing me? when will they see? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Forgotten Warrior" She see's threw the kindred eyes of another. she cleans the ocean sea cry'n for her lover. she stands serenely now, on lions grounds, echoing chants with willowing nights sounds.... No one accounts for where she's been. Here come wasted desert land's blown' in. Hair skirted at her waist, silhouetted on the horizon she sharpens her knife waitn' for her demended dragons. 12:21 a.m. - Sunday, Sept. 05, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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